


Beach? Blanket? Bingo.

by Kyonomiko



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Day At The Beach, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 09:30:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15385836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyonomiko/pseuds/Kyonomiko
Summary: Draco and Theo Nott enjoy the advantageous nature of witch attire at the beach.  Summertime fluff written for Dramione Fanfiction Forum drabblechallenge





	Beach? Blanket? Bingo.

If you ask Draco Malfoy, 8th year at Hogwarts was fucking amazing.  
No more war… no Snake monster living in his house…no parents breathing down his neck about his obligation or his marks or his reputation…  
It has been unadulterated bliss.  
Lucius and Narcissa were quietly expatriated from wizarding Britain after the final battle, an arrangement that seems to have satisfied nearly everyone. Meanwhile, the Malfoy heir was invited back to Hogwarts to finish his education and work to clear his name.  
Alright, so ‘invited’ is a polite term for ‘Wizengamot mandated’, but let’s not split hairs, shall we?  
Now, it’s June, and the Potter-era alum have been invited on a little holiday. In the name of house unity, Headmistress McGonagall has arranged what muggles refer to as a “class trip” to a private island with a Wizarding community. Barely known in the muggle world, and only discovered by the more adventurous sorts, the percentage of population of magical folk versus muggle is one of the highest in the world.  
All in all, it’s quiet and serene, and Draco has spent the last day lounging on a patio outside his room, drinking copious amounts of liquor and making big, important plans for the future with Theo Nott.  
“I’m going to China next,” Nott slurs at him, a bit of drink sloshing over his tumbler. “Chinese girls are fucking gorgrous… gorjuzzz… super fucking pretty, mate.”  
Draco laughs at his friend, knowing full well he’s every bit as drunk and not caring one whit.  
“I’ll be fine right at home,” he professes. “Nothing wrong with local birds.” He uses his hand holding a glass to gesture where Pansy Parkinson has just emerged and is making the short trek to the beach. She’s wearing a sexy little blue number that only reaches mid-thigh and leaves her arms completely exposed. It even dips low, showing a peek at her cleavage. “I love the sodding beach,” he grins.  
“Pansy!”  
Draco watches as Tracey Davis jogs to catch up, the skirt on her bathing attire even shorter than Pansy’s. Half-blood, Draco thinks. Probably got it at some risqué muggle shop. He licks his lips.  
“Hurry, Tracey, before the Gryffindors get all the good sunning spots!”  
“Too late, Parkinson”, Lavender Brown announces as she flounces by. She is wearing sort of long dress, but Draco can see the straps of her suit beneath. Lucky the wizard who’s down at the beach for that reveal. She was always a bit of a tart. He would wager her suit is even skimpier than Tracey’s.  
“Get moving, Lavender. Don’t give them an opportunity!” He recognizes one of the Patils, not sure which and doesn’t particularly care, race toward the other witches in short pants and a cotton shirt.  
So it’s a race between the ladies is it? Draco sways a little as he stands up and looks down at Nott. “I think a stroll on the beach is what we cheerly need. Join me to take in the… sights?” Draco wriggles his brows at his friend who catches on very quickly.  
“One of your better ideas.”  
The boys are a bit distracted, grabbing their drinks and slipping on their shoes, so they miss the rest of the Hogwarts ladies as they pass by. No matter. In Draco’s opinion, he’ll see them soon enough, sunning themselves, laid out on blankets in the sand. He rubs his hands together like the villain he used to pretend to be. He hasn’t had a date since fifth year. Spending this last year just keeping his nose clean, he’s hard up for some female attention.  
“Bingo,” Nott whispers, and Draco follows his gaze. “That’s what we’re looking for.”  
Laid out on her stomach, a woman is sunning her back and is, by all accounts, nearly naked. A barely-there strip of fabric lays across her back, and another piece covers her pert arse, hardly even sitting above the line that separates her cheeks.  
“Holy fuck…”  
“Muggles”, Nott says. “Fucking jackpot. The muggle girls, they call that a ‘bikini’.”  
Draco pans his gaze over Ginny Weasley, who has a separate article covering her chest and another piece that sits at her waist and covers the tops of her thighs. It’s one of the most revealing of the Hogwarts witches, but has nothing on the girl Theo pointed out.  
“Oi, red!” The witch in question looks his way, and he gestures to her lower half. “What’s the name for this?”  
“Bikini bottoms,” she answers, a bit unsure.  
“Please,” Theo scoffs. “You call these bikini bottoms?” He gestures to the muggle across the sand. “Those are bikini bottoms. Witches got shite on muggle women. You may as well be wearing your uniform skirt compertative…. comparided… in comparison.”  
Still drunk then, Draco thinks.  
Weaslette snickers, Draco assumes at Theo’s inebriation. “Those muggles,” she laughs, and Draco feels like he’s missing a punch line, “They really know how to do it right, eh? Hey!”  
A yell from Weaslette, and the woman in the tiny pink bikini seems to know she meant her. Draco watches as the woman turns over.  
Not woman: Witch.  
Hermione…  
“Granger?!?!” She’s so fucking stunning, his nose tickles like it could bleed.  
She sits up and slips the sunglasses on her face down her nose, looking over the rims. “Hey, Ginny,” she calls back, “did you bring the sunscreen potion?”  
Reaching in her bag, Ginny pulls out a bottle and waves it between Draco and Theo. “Maybe one of you would like to deliver this to the muggle girl?”  
Draco sees it happen; sees Theo reach his hand out and start to take the bottle. But Draco is a Seeker. Draco is fucking fast.  
Snatching it with flourish, he tips his drunken head at the witch. “Thanks, Weaslette. Nott, don’t wait up.” With a wink, he sashays himself right over to the smartest, hottest muggleborn he’s ever met, plopping onto her blanket.  
“Where do you want it, love?”  
Merlin, he’s glad that stupid fucking war is over.


End file.
